


Divine(d) Visions

by FFFantasies



Series: Lyrics curling like Leaves [5]
Category: Filthy Frank Show - Fandom
Genre: Demons, Lore - Freeform, Multi, Pining, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:12:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFFantasies/pseuds/FFFantasies
Summary: Franklin belonged to Maxine first, he was her husband and since he's not really dead, he still is. He's hers and she wants him back but he's not all she wants. Oh no, she wants as much as she can get, she wants it all and what Maxine wants, she damn well takes.





	1. Mad Maxie

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, who would've thought there'd be an official third to this series? Definitely not me but here we are. This fic is a departure from the structure of the last two where there was a linear progression and everyone happened chronologically. This fic is going to be more of a collection of snapshots more than a narrative, each chapter is going to focus on one of the four characters and will be split into three sections where the character's relationship to the other three will be explored. 
> 
> Although this fic relies on events of the other two fics, you don't need to read the other two to understand what's going on. Just important to note: Ramen Devil is called Red, Fake survived and left Chin Chin, Kohe is a criminal and Maxine is looking for Fake after 2 years of thinking he was dead.

Sometimes it was easy to forget Franklin came from another place, another realm. He never acted strange, he never seemed surprised by anything, sometimes Maxine could even believe he grew up here. She could even believe he belonged here, when she watches him spend hours typing away on his laptop or when he asks her out to dinner. Sometimes it’s easy to forget he’s just as much a stranger as she is, more even because she…her realm.

Her realm was like this one, almost, a bit. Her realm was dirtier, her realm knew about lycra and they knew about Chin Chin and that was just normal, everyday life. You paid your dues to whoever and fucked off, maybe you were pretty enough for some rich bitch to adopt you and dress you up in nice clothes. Maybe you were handy enough for some gang or the other to take you in and teach you how to live, maybe you were unlucky and spent your days begging and stealing.

Maxine’s somewhere between the three but she knows how everything works. Franklin though, he’s not from a realm like this one and sometimes it’s easy to forget but other times it shows. Oh and he doesn’t think anyone notices but he’s wrong, hmm well no, he’s not wrong, not entirely.

Maybe it’s safer to say, he doesn’t think anyone notices and he’s right but she’s not just anyone. She’s his partner in crime, for now, and she spends most of her time noticing him. This new toy Chin Chin picked up in some dead realm, she doesn’t know which one because there’s gotta be hundreds out there but she knows it had to be one of those. She knows because she notices when he doesn’t belong, it’s some kind of deductive reasoning or maybe it’s inductive? She doesn’t know and it doesn’t really matter.

What matters now, objectively, is what Franklin is doing and what she’s watching him do. What she’s watching him do from her spot on this sinfully soft bed in this sinfully rich realm with so many sinfully expensive things. She forget what exactly they’re there to do, she’ll remember in a while, when she’s ready to get up and get on with the job she’s being paid for but right now she’s got better shit to do.

Their hotel room is one of the best, they get a huge balcony to fuck on when they want to and it’s got so much glass and the view is spectacular. Personally Maxine prefers something less civilized, something with more plants, more green but this one isn’t too bad. They get to see the whole jam-packed city with its huge skyscrapers and so many cars and all the fucking people, god there are so many people. They get to see all the twinkling lights when night finally falls, all the neon billboards and all the main attractions, it’s nice.

Right now the only view she has is of Franklin leaning against the balcony railing, lit up by the setting sun in a way that makes him even more gorgeous than usual. Their room opens out to the south so there’s never any direct sunlight filtering in and right now it’s even better because she gets to see him against the sky without losing a single bit of him to the contrast. She gets to see the ripple of muscle as he stretches his arms over his head, shirtless of course, and she gets to see the arch of his spine as he rests his forearms on the railing.

Maxine gets to admire that sweet ass of his that takes her cock so well, so easily, and she gets to enjoy the jut of his hips over the low hanging trackies he likes to wear around. She gets to follow the pattern of scars on his back, bruise red scratches from her nails raking across his skin and she can almost hear him moaning so sugar sweet for her. If she squints a little, she can even make out the bruises on his hips where she holds him tight and drags him down on her cock.

Oh he’s a treat alright, her Franklin. Even if he’s not really hers, even if he belongs to some God and doesn’t always remember her after he’s been away for a while, it’s fine, he’s still hers. He belongs to her in a way he won’t ever belong to Chin Chin and in a way he won’t ever belong to any realm, he belongs to her because he wants to. He wants to with no coercion , with no need, no real reason other than he wants to and she smiles slow and satisfied as she thinks about it.

She belongs to him too, of course. She belongs to this strange shadow of a peace^lord, a boy who has a God’s eyes lodged in his skull and thinks she doesn’t know. She’s worked with Chin Chin before and she’s heard the stories before, she’s not a fool and she’s not naïve, she knows and she doesn’t really mind. She knows someday Franklin will get tossed aside like rubbish and she knows she’ll have to be there to dust off the pieces and glue him back together.

She doesn’t want it to happen but she knows it will. Everyone does, and maybe deep down Franklin knows it too. Maybe it’s why he’s out there on the balcony now, proving how strange he is and how little he belongs here.

Maxine knows things about Franklin, things he never has to say and she knows right now he’s watching the sunset and he’s watching the sky fade and he’s watching the moon rise. She knows he’ll never get tired of it, of watching the day die and the night wake up, the way all the colours leach away and leave everything unfamiliar and new. Sometimes she wonders if it’s different for him now, now that he’s running around with a Dark God’s eyes but she doesn’t ask, she won’t.

Instead of asking questions she’ll never get answers to, she watches him, and breathes as deep as her lungs will let her. She thinks he watches the night come alive because it reminds him of his realm, she doesn’t think he ever got to see anything but dusk and night anyway. She knows about realms like that, ones that are always twilight and sometimes night but never anything else, something to do with the flow of time and chromosomes.

Night here is different though and she knows it. Franklin is always relaxed whenever he watches the sky change colours, there’s no tension in his shoulders, no stiffness in his hands. Maxine’s sure Franklin has his eyes closed as he tilts his face up, breathing in the cool twilight maybe, drinking it in and letting it settle in his stomach like some expensive alcohol. He looks even better against the deepest blue sky, less defined but just as lovely and she does love her lovely things.

She rolls over, stretches and presses her face to the pillows. There’s work tonight, shit to do, but not until later and for now she’s enjoying herself in a way she never thought she could. The hotel bed is soft as sin, and she thinks everything in this realm is sinful, but she’s a sinner so it evens out. Plus she lost her metaphor somewhere between the soft sheets and fluffy pillows that smell like Franklin, or at least his cologne.

“Are you gonna waste more time looking at the sky or are you coming in here to fuck me again before we leave?” she asks, barely raising her voice because she knows he can hear her either way. She doesn’t know if him being able to hear a fart in a hurricane was something he could do before he met Chin Chin or after and she never thinks to ask.

She doesn’t look up either, she keeps her face pressed in the pillows and breathes deep and slow. She’s enjoying herself here, a little break between beatings and it’s nice, she gets to play with her new pet and he gets fucked good and hard. Win-win really. She thinks they could be good for each other even, she likes Franklin, she really does, they work good together and it’s rare to find someone who doesn’t think she’s a crazy bitch ready to strangle them in their sleep.

Granted she is a crazy bitch and she has tried it before but this is just different. Franklin doesn’t fight her, he submits so easy, calls her what she asks him to, does what she tells him, he’s good and she likes being good to him too. She almost wished she found him before Chin Chin did because it would have been so much better like that, yeah?

She wouldn’t have had to share her boy with anyone, she could’ve had him all to herself without having to work around anyone else. Oh but she knows, she knows Franklin was different before Chin Chin and she might not have liked who he was before, for better or for worse it’s a good thing she knows him now.

“Yes ma’am,” he whispers as he crawls back onto the bed, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her nape. They’ve fucked so much during this job and god she loves it, if they ever got married, she’d want the honey moon to be just like this. If they got married, if they did…

“Good boy,” she purrs, throwing her leg over his hip and grinding against his thigh.

* * *

 He doesn’t know what to think, about her, about him, about this. Kohe’s not…he’s not good at people, he’s never been good at people and this is. She’s more than he thinks he can ever wrap his head around.

“My wife,” Franklin had said, lips pressed tight, jaw clenched tight, shoulders tense, back straight.

“Your wife,” Kohe had thought to himself, staring at the woman, this woman, Franklin’s wife.

“Maxine,” she’d said in a voice that reminds him of someone he’d known.

She was Frank’s wife, a wife he’d never bothered to tell Kohe about because…well even after a year of living together and a few months of being together, there’s still so much Frank doesn’t tell him. Sometimes he thinks it’s because Frank doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to scare him off or just wants to lie and pretend his life has always been normal. Kohe knows it’s not, that’s not why but he can’t help thinking it sometimes.

He knows that Frank has a hard time remembering things, somedays are fine, others are bad, Kohe’s learnt to deal with both. He knows that Frank doesn’t talk about some things because they’re bad, things Chin Chin had him do and he was happy to do for Chin Chin, Kohe’s still accepting some of them. He knows that Frank doesn’t think what he had with Chin Chin was wrong, even now, even after, he doesn’t understand that it wasn’t _his_ fault, Kohe doesn’t know what to do sometimes but he’s there.

Now to know there was someone else Franklin…loved, back again, looking for him again. He doesn’t want to trust her, Maxine, but Frank does and Kohe doesn’t and he doesn’t know her and he’s not sure if he wants to. This woman, a beautiful woman if he’s willing to admit it to himself, who looks at Frank with something like regret in her eyes and something like relief. Kohe doesn’t know what to think of her most days.

She reminds him of Max most days, same brown hair, same green-grey-blue eyes, same loud voice and quick laugh. She isn’t Max though, her hair is longer, brushes her shoulders and when she pulls it back in a ponytail he can’t keep his eyes off the sweep of her neck. Her eyes are the same strange colour but there’s something darker behind them, something sharper, almost predatory even when she’s laughing so hard there are tears in them.

Maxine isn’t Max, she’s gorgeous and she acts like she’s ready to run any second. She always looks ready to move and he doesn’t mean run away either, he means ready to chase down something, to hunt it down and strangle it dead. She’s human, she’s as human as Frank, which could mean so many things but he doesn’t usually think about those things.

She doesn’t live with them, he doesn’t know where she stays, but she spends most of her time in the apartment one either of them are there. He comes home and finds her reading a book at the kitchen table, he wakes up and she’s smoking on the balcony. He doesn’t know if Frank made her a key or if she’s just breaking in, she seems the type of person that it could be both and it doesn’t bother him as much as it should.

Her eyes following him around don’t bother him as much as they should. Sometimes she takes Frank with her, out to places he doesn’t know and they come back hours later, drunk or high, snickering and smiling and they disappear into Frank’s room. Sometimes he watches them go, sees her look at him with something in her eyes like she’s trying to make up her mind but she never does before Frank’s pulling her into the room with him. And he should feel jealous right? Kohe should, he feels like he should but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t feel jealous when Maxine drags his boyfriend, her husband, into a room and undoubtedly fucks him. The only thing Kohe feels when they disappear together is left out, not unwanted exactly but left out and he has no idea why. He loves Franklin, he knows he does and he knows Franklin loves him back but that was before Franklin’s wife came looking for him. Where does she fit into what they have? Are they sharing Franklin now or is it something else?

He wants to ask her sometimes, he could ask her now. She’s sitting right there, on his bed, while he plays Overwatch. Well she’s sitting with Franklin who likes to watch him play but she’s there and he can feel her eyes on him, he can always tell when she’s watching him and not the game. And he still doesn’t know why, why does she care about him, does she care beyond them sharing Frank?

He should ask her, he should stop after this mask, turn around and ask her what they are to each other now. What does she think is happening now? She obviously doesn’t want to take Franklin away, she would have done that already if she wanted to and he doesn’t think he could have stopped her. She’s so different from Chin Chin, she doesn’t scheme and wait and lurk, she does things and doesn’t give anyone else a chance to even react. If she wanted to take Frank, he would have been gone, Kohe would have come home to an empty apartment and it would have stayed empty for the rest of the week, the rest of the month, he wants to be dramatic and say the rest of forever.

 “How do you know Max?” she asks just he takes out the enemy Reinhart and Kohe nearly stops breathing in shock. He does that a lot now, freezes when he’s startled and he doesn’t know why, it won’t help him but he does it anyway and it takes a few seconds for him to remember he’s playing a game.

He doesn’t know why he’s so shocked, those videos are online for everyone to see but he never expected anyone to figure out he was that Kohe, especially since he doesn’t’ use that name here. Anyone who isn’t Frank knows him as Kenneth, it’s the name on his fake passport and it’s the one he’s almost used to answering too when someone uses it. No one but Frank knows his name here, no one but Frank and Maxine now.

“We met when I was in Australia,” he answers and it’s not a lie, he did meet Max when he was in Australia but he won’t say the rest, he doesn’t really know why. There was nothing bad about how they met, nothing strange or wrong but he can’t make himself tell her how he ran into Max at a store. Nothing special, just two people meeting in a store but he still can’t say the words and he almost gets killed waiting for her to ask more.

“He’s like my Francis and I’m like his Franklin,” she says so offhandedly he can hear the shrug in her voice, like it doesn’t matter and to her it probably doesn’t. Frank told him about Francis and being another version of a person, like something right out of a comic book, but Kohe never doubted it. Franklin isn’t normal and Franklin isn’t from here and after Chin Chin it’s easy to believe so many things that Maxine being Max isn’t strange.

What is strange is how he knows Max and now he…doesn’t think he knows Maxine but he could, he can. How long has it been? A month? Three weeks?

“I never found anything we had in common before,” she adds and can feel her eyes, he almost gets killed, “until now.”

Frank snickers and Kohe dies anyway, he doesn’t know what she means and he doesn’t want to ask her. He thinks maybe, he can guess what she’s implying but he doesn’t want to ask her and be wrong, he doesn’t want to be wrong.

“Maybe the dumb cunt has good taste once in a while,” she suggests and Frank laughs louder. Kohe doesn’t think he’s wrong.

* * *

 

She doesn’t like dealing with demons, they’re messy and they’re hard to control but sometimes they can be fun and sometimes they can be useful. Maxine likes useful people and this one likes to be useful, at least he likes it when he gets something out of it.

“Don’t go breaking a nail, baby doll,” Theo laughs as she wipes blood spatter off her face, like she said messy. If Maxine tries, if she closes her eyes and pretends his voice is a little deeper, then she could almost think she’s got Franklin tied to this chair, bloody and bleeding. If she half closes her eyes in this dark warehouse, if she ignores the sound of broken bones grinding together as they rese themselves. If she ignores the glint in his eye and the tattoo on his neck, she can pretend ‘Pink Thug’ is actually her boy but that’s stupid and not what she’s here for.

“Don’t worry about me, puppy,” she coos, wiping her bloody fingers on his hoody and rocking back on her heels. Theo’s a strange one, all things considered, he doesn’t want chromosomes or money, he doesn’t want favours or promises, he doesn’t even want a soul or two; he’s strange for a demon. Maybe if she was someone else he’d _want_ something else but she’s not and he doesn’t, what he wants in exchange for information is to be beaten bloody and bruised oh so sweet the way she’s specialized at.

She’s proud of that, of the name she’s made for herself working under her realm’s mob and then under Chin Chin, people know not to fuck with her unless they want to get fucked up. If Theo was anyone else, just being approached by ‘Mad Maxie’ might have made him spill his guts but the hell hound isn’t just anyone. Oh no, Theodore’s a special boy, isn’t he? A special puppy who likes to play rough and be disciplined worse, too bad he lost his master.

“Now are you going to tell me where he is puppy, or do I have to break a few more ribs?” she asks, sliding her fingers in his hair and dragging his head back. He’s pretty, wearing a familiar face like this, he’s pretty. She wonders idly if he stole the face from her memories or if he’s playing peace^lord today because the face looking back at her is most definitely Franklin’s, or Francis’ if she wants to get technical.

Oh sure there’re a few changes, the tip of his nose sits different, his eyes aren’t brown, his hair is cut a different way and when he smiles gold glints up at her but it’s still the same face. She could spend hours running her fingers over his face, picking out what’s the same and what’s not but she doesn’t have the time. Objectively, she doesn’t have the time, and when she looks down at Franklin’s face covered in blood like this it reminds of something she didn’t even get to see.

“ _Please_?” he moans, straining against the cuffs again, making his already raw wrists bleed again. He calls himself Pink Thug in this realm, raises some hell, plays some games and gets sent back home with his tail up and his blood racing. He calls himself Pink Thug in this realm because he looks like someone everyone knows and he does things everyone is used to, he gets to pretend to be less dangerous than he is. Although, he does get his ass beat on a regular, sometimes he goes looking for it, sometimes it’s just a happy coincidence.

“Beg better puppy,” she teases, swiping her thumb over his lip and breathing slow when he licks her finger. She could fuck him like this, climb into his lap and get his cock out of his pants, ride him until she came shaking and growling in his ear, it would be fun, and he’d love it but she can’t. Maybe later, maybe after she gets what she wants and finds what she’s looking for she’ll come find him again.

“Harder baby doll, c’mon hit me harder, paint me bloody,” he growls and she can hear the teeth snapping behind that growl. He wants and he wants and he knows how to get it, Maxine knows he could; she knows he could snap those cuffs so easy and he could tear out her throat with his teeth like any good dog. He’s stronger than her, more resilient, but they made a _deal_.

A deal she reminds him of when she pulls her finger from his mouth and wraps her hand around his throat instead. A deal he remembers when she traces her name in the spider-web inked into his skin, this human skin he wears, so strange for him to wear a spider’s thread when he’s far from one but she supposed an actual collar would be too on the nose. She digs her nails into his neck, into his web, and pulls until her fingers are slippery with his more copper than silver blood.

He growls again but there’s a whimper too, he bares his teeth but his eyes flutter shut as he moans and she feels it all along her arm. Demons are messy fuckers, can never make up their minds what they want or what they need unless someone’s pulling their leash tight. He needs that right now, he’s been too wild and reckless recently and he would’ve given anyone his leash, she just so happened to be the lucky girl to take it. She gets to use him, he gets to use her; mutual self-destruction guaranteed.

“ ** _What_** was that puppy?” she whispers as she drags his head back again, shows off his bleeding neck instead and leans in close to press her lips to his cheek. She can hear the hitch in his breath, hear him swallow hard, and feel the way his pulse jumps under her fingers.

“We made a deal Theo, I beat your pretty face bloody, leave you horny and hard and barely breathing and you tell me everything you’ve heard about my husband, yeah?” she snarls into his ear, feels him shudder under her hands. She knows if she dropped her hand to his crotch, she’d feel his cock hard in his pants so she doesn’t do that. Instead, she moves forward just a bit until her lips are pressed against his ear and she smiles against his skin in a way she knows he feels.

“And if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll drag your carcass all the way to a **_real_** devil and let him sort you out, yeah?” and she doesn’t need to rest one leg on the chair, she doesn’t need to rub her knee against his cock but she does it because she can. And she doesn’t need to threaten him, she definitely doesn’t need to bring **_Red_** into this but she wants to. She wants to hear the sharp gasp of breath just as much as she feels it puffing against her face, she wants to taste the arousal and fear thick on her tongue.

She doesn’t need to threaten him with his ‘Boss’ to get him to keep up his end of the bargain but it freezes his racing blood in his veins and that’s reason enough. There aren’t many things a hell bound, hell raised puppy like this is afraid of or even could be afraid of but Master is always worth the fear. Even if it’s only Master technically, Master is always worth the fear and Red could do so much more to a hell hound than just sending it home with a whipping. Demons are messy and they don’t have many rules but the very few they do are always followed, or else.

“Yes ma’am,” he breathes and she pulls away with a smile.


	2. Good Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He does whatever he wants and whatever catches his attention, Theo isn't picky. He follows people who interest him, he trails and tails after them because they're more interesting than doing nothing. Maybe he's too bored sometimes, maybe he's too lonely sometimes but he can't fix that, he doesn't think he can fix it. He might be wrong but he doesn't know.

She finds him again, just like she said she would, because she needs him again. Maxine, Mad Maxie, he didn’t think she would but he’s glad she did because nobody fucks you up as good as Maxine.

“What do you need this time, baby doll?” he laughs when she slams his door right in Mickey’s horrified face. He’s an imp, no one special, but even he knows Mad Maxie, everyone knows Mad Maxie and no one wants to be on her shit list. Right now, with a snarl on her lips and a bat in her hands, it probably looks like Theo is on said shit list, Mickey’s probably calling a clean-up crew right now. Shit, Theo doesn't know if he's on her list, he doesn't think he is but he's not sure and _that_ sends a thrill up his spine. 

“He wasn’t there cunt, I looked, _twice_ ,” and her voice is a growl, grating and scrapping right across raw nerves in a way that makes him want to bare his throat for her. She’s no demon and he’s a hell hound but God this woman makes him forget the way of the realms, she makes him want to drop to his knees and suck her cock. And he would, if she’d let him but he doesn’t think she will until he gives her what she wants.

“You asked about the Temple and I told you how to look,” he shrugs because he did, he’s not an information broker and she knows he isn't but she can’t do this through normal channels. He smiles up at her, bright and happy, and doesn’t even flinch when she swings that bat of hers and breaks his window. The arc of the swing is homerun winning, her stance and the plant of her legs shows she knows how to get power behind that bat, she knows what the fuck she’s doing and her hands still go through the window as it breaks.

She’s mad right now, not angry, not furious; pure, hell-hath-no-fury mad. She’s not thinking with her head or her dick, she’s not thinking at all. She’s not thinking and she’s fucking beautiful, fucking _shit_ , she’s beautiful.

“Bull ** _shit_**! You cocksucking son of a bitch! We made a deal and **_you_** broke it now I’m going to drag you to the Devil by your god damn dick, cunt!” she shouts and he _does_ flinch this time. She’s _pissed_ and he knows she would be, he knew she wouldn’t find anything when she went to look, he knew she wouldn’t and now he’s wondering why he ever thought this was a good idea. Then her head snaps back up, eyes glinting with the same mad, wild anger she beat him with last month and he remembers.

“Make another deal,” he says almost too quiet but he knows she hears him. He knew she wouldn’t find Chin Chin’s attack dog at the Temple and he knew she would have to come back to him. He didn’t break their deal, she asked where she could find her husband and he told her where she could, he never told her she _would_. Those are semantics and loopholes but he’s a demon with a contract, he was born out of a loophole and survived because of semantics and now he wants her. He wants her attention, maybe her affection, he wants her cock and he wants her anger.

“Make me help you, make me go with you next time,” he tells her, sitting up slowly, kicking back the blankets slowly and he sees her fingers tense around the bat’s handle. She could crack his head open so easy just a few steps across his bedroom and one hard swing would do it. He’s still tangled up in his blankets, his heart is racing but he’s still half asleep and hungover, she could send him right back to Hell so easy.

She won’t though, Maxine won’t because she still needs him. He can see it in her eyes, those hazel, green, blue eyes; he can see it in the twist of her lips, those bright red lips dark against her white teeth. She’s beautiful, she’s crazy and dangerous and he wants her, he wants her however she’ll take him and he wants her as long as he can get her. He doesn’t care if he has to share with her husband, he doesn’t even know if she’ll find Franklin, if anyone will, but he’ll help her look and Theo will share if they do find him.

He’s not selfish and he knows Franklin had dibs first, he knows Maxine would track that fucker down to the edges of the omniverse if she had to. Theo doesn’t know if he’s jealous or in awe, Franklin’s a lucky son of a bitch and the fucker better realise it when he gets found.

“Why should I? You didn’t do jack fucking shit last time,” she snarls and he can see specks of blood on her hands, scattered across her knuckles and he doesn’t know if it’s from whoever else she asked or from the pieces of his window. She looks great there, framed against the door while the nightlife streams in through his broken window, he almost wishes he had a billboard outside to really make her pretty. Right now he has to make do with jagged shadows playing across her face whenever the blind flaps in the breeze.

“Let me sniff him out, hold my leash and give me the scent,” and he should give her so much, shouldn’t remind her just why Chin Chin used him or why Red likes to keep him around. He’s a hellhound and he’s meant to guard a gate, that’s common shit, anyone who knows what he is knows that basic shit. What he’s giving her now, well, not many people remember why hell hounds of all things guard the gates.

“I have a nose for sinners and I can find yours if you make the deal,” he breathes, watching her hair fall into her face as she tilts her head. He stares at a single curl, bronze in the yellow-white glow through the window and wonders if her hair is as soft to the touch as it looks, he thinks it might be. God he wants to run his fingers through it, maybe hold her face against his neck, feel her tongue trace every line of the web and feel her bite his collar.

She could be a good Master, maybe. Theodore doesn’t even care if she’d be a bad one, it’s been so long since he’s had one and he’s desperate maybe, willing to do anything to get one maybe even fuck with Mad Maxie. She’s desperate too, she’s like a cornered wolverine, ready to tear his face off if he comes too close too fast but he doesn’t know any other way to move. Even though he’s sitting up ever so slowly, shoving his blanket down his legs, not even giving a shit that he’s naked underneath it and staring her dead in the eye as he reaches for the pen.

“One little deal, nothing big, a few days,” he promises, feeling around on the bedside table for the pen he knows he left there. He’s kept there all month, waiting for her to come back, waiting for her to break the door hinges and come in swinging. He was hoping he’d be in the living room when she came, get cracked across the jaw and feel it for weeks but he didn’t and she didn’t. Instead he’s sitting in bed, fingers curling around the pen and trying to breathe deeper than his racing heart wants to let him.

He still has bruises from her, bruises he kept poking so they wouldn’t fade away. He has her fingers around his throat, less defined than when she made them but they’re still there and he knows she sees them. She knows her own handiwork and he knows she knows; he’s glad she does. He has to wear the fucking spider web, he doesn’t have a choice no matter what body he uses, but he can _choose_ to have her mark.

“You don’t have anything to lose, baby doll” he tempts her with all the guile the devil ever taught him. Nothing to lose, anything to lose, of course she does, if he turns the deal around, spins a new web for it and all the lies included. He could take so much more than she’s willing to give if he wants, it would be so easy, but then where’s the fun in that? Where’s the fun in **_making_** her take him?

“Of course I do you slimy leach cunt, I have everything to lose,” she scoffs but her grip is looser around her bat and he smiles when she drops it on the floor. He holds out the pen to her, smiles at her, tips his head back for her and waits for her.

“A few days, then I’m gone,” she mutters as she takes the pen, as she uses the blade on the end to slice open her fingers for her own bloody ink.

“Thank you ma’am,” he moans as she carves her name into his skin along the spider’s web. He can taste her blood, smell it on his skin and almost starts crying because fuck it’s good, it’s so fucking good, it’s been too fucking long, **_fuck_**.

“Good boy,” she grunts as he shakes like he’s about to cum right there. He doesn’t, unfortunately, but feeling her scrawl her name over his soul will never stop being anything less than nut worthy.

“Yes ma’am,” he breathes as his heart finally slows back down in his chest, as she sits on the edge of his bed and rests a hand on his thigh. He has a Master, a Mistress, ready and willing to hook a leash to his collar and lead him around like a prized pet and it’s been too fucking long.

* * *

 

Frank doesn’t remember the hell hound, Frank didn’t remember his fucking wife so he thinks it’s okay not to remember a demon. Theo even says so, says that it’s okay because the few times they met Frank was off his ass on Chin Chin’s shit and too tipsy to go piss for himself but still. Still what? He still feels bad? Not really, no one mattered to him back then, nobody but Chin Chin and almost Maxine so he doesn’t know what he feels but it isn’t bad.

Being here, now, he doesn’t feel bad. He’s not with Chin Chin anymore and he can remember bits and pieces of shit, the bits and pieces that matter at least. He can almost remember his wedding and the cake, he swears he can hear the song Maxine was humming when they busted a Negi and he _does_ remember the look on her face when they fucked the first time. He remembers the feeling of her hand around his throat and her tongue in his mouth and her moaning, her moans were nice.

There’s a lot he still doesn’t remember though and doesn’t think he’ll get back. He’s not sure he wants most of it, didn’t even realise he was missing more than half of his seven years as Chin Chin’s attack dog. Part of him wants it though, the part that’ll always be Chin Chin’s pet wants every last second with his Master. It wants all the fingers running through his hair and every inch of cock in his ass, every whispered word and the acid-burning taste of blood.

“My cock’s down here,” Theo snickers, hand pushing Frank’s head down so when he blinks he’s staring a crotch. He blinks for a couple seconds, breathes hard through his nose and wonders if he should make a joke about needing help to find it cause it’s so small but he doesn’t. He opens his mouth to say something and he can’t find any words, he can barely close it.

Maxine found him because of this guy, Kohe _knew_ this guy and apparently Franklin did too. Theodore’s a blank in his memory and it doesn’t make him feel bad but it’s unsettling because he doesn’t know if this is a good thing Chin Chin took or something not worth remembering. Frank doesn’t **_know_** Theo, he knows what Maxie’s told him and what Kohe says and that’s all.

Hell hounds are loyal, Chin Chin always told him that, if he wasn’t a link he would’ve been a hound because he’s so loyal. Theo’s last Master was Chin Chin too, last official Master at least, and Frank knows it’s different for demons. They can’t just renounce their Masters and run off like he did, Theo didn’t just scoop the eyes out of his head like a fucking dumbass, he has Chin Chin’s name written on his fucking soul.

“C’mon _Franklin_ , nothing to say?” Theo asks and his tone is light but the hand sliding along his thigh is warm, solid. They were…watching a movie, waiting for Maxine to get home and Kohe went to sleep already because he had a job in the morning and Theo’s here because this is where he always is nowadays. Frank doesn’t know when he lost track of time, when he stared past the laptop screen and when he stopped hearing whatever the people were saying.

Chin Chin sent other people after them, a Negi, probably still stops by and fucking listens to them because Frank didn’t think for a second the asshole was really gone. Theo could be another one of those, how hard would it be for Theo to still be running around for his Master? Not hard, not hard at all. He could be plotting, waiting for just the right time to swoop in and do what the fuckever he’s gonna do.

Maxine making a deal with him could’ve been part of the plan, or a trick. Frank should get rid of the hound now, before shit goes fucked and they can’t get out of it. He should distract Theo then shoot him in the back of the head, he could get Kohe and Maxine to leave before the hound got back to this realm. Frank could do it, he has a gun, keeps one under his pillow.

“You remember the Devil?”

The question is strange and Frank’s still blinking but he’s breathing too. He’s breathing and not thinking about shooting the nice hell hound in the head because Maxie wouldn’t like that and Kohe would probably give him the ‘I’m mad and disappointed, Franklin why?’ look. Killing someone was a violation of the lease anyway and moving into Theo’s place after murdering him was too fucked up even for him.

“Which one?” he says and he doesn’t sound strange, not like he was just contemplating murder.

“Red,” Theo specifies and Frank has to think back, harder than he should but hey, that’s life. He thinks of red demons he’s seen, most in the Temple, some in strip clubs because demons liked to strip and see people strip. He remembers one with a long spine wrapped twice around a pole, he remembers a purple one that looked red under the light, he remembers one with a red heart on one cheek.

“No,” because he doesn’t think any of them are who Theo’s talking about. None of them were important enough for Chin Chin to care about to stop and talk to so they’re not the one.

“He never introduced you? Fucking Red? What the fuck?” Theo laughs and it’s nice, sounds nice. Frank looks back up, can barely see in his dark room and with his shades but he can make out the shine of Theo’s gold teeth. Gold capped canines, they’re nice, taste nice too. Frank likes to run his tongue over them, they always feel cool and smooth even when Theo’s mouth is hot and wet.

“You’d love Red,” Theo swears with a smile. Frank smiles too because it’s the thing to do, he can’t see anything but that smile so why not?

“Does he eat ass?” he asks because he doesn’t talk about shit and he doesn’t like to talk about it. He’ll do it for Maxine, if she asks, he’ll do it for Kohe because he needs it but Theo doesn’t need or want any of it. Theo notices shit but he doesn’t say anything, he just accepts and moves on, it’s nice and Frank likes it.

“Sucks dick good too.”

* * *

 

Theo knows ‘Kenneth’ isn’t the guy’s real name, reaction time’s too slow, has that weird expression when he answers to it, doesn’t even look like a Kenneth but it’s the only name he’s got. Kenneth’s probably the only name he’s gonna get and it should be enough. It isn’t.

He’s home from a party when he realises he’s thinking about Brenden’s runner, the new one who doesn’t talk. Usually not talking is a good trait for a runner to have, no one thinks about the delivery boy but they do if he talks and this one doesn't, last one did and that’s why they have a new one. Last one talked a lot and wasn’t half as nice looking as this one, Theo’s got a type and this new boy fits it. He likes dark hair and dark eyes, he likes nice cocksucker lips and he likes nice asses all of which the new kid has.

He’s laying in bed thinking about the new kid, Kenneth. He should be sleeping, Mickey wants to meet up tomorrow, hit up a few places and get buzzed before they go take care of some people coming across from another realm. The territory is technically Red’s and the people coming across are technically his to but technicalities don’t always fly and Theo’s itching to sink his teeth in something. He should be sleeping cause he doesn’t know when he’ll get in after this but he’s thinking about the new kid instead, the sexy one with the nice lips.

Brenden’s only used him twice for two different deliveries but Theo’s seen him around these last few months, new kid lives close by. It’d be easy to accidentally run into him, maybe literally maybe not, he could start up a conversation or just look at that ass enough times to get the point across. It’d be nice to hear new kid’s voice, he’s never heard it because he’s got that note pad of his, writes anything he needs to say and it's never much. Oh but the things he's figured out from that writing, all shaky and spindly like a child's as though new kid never learnt to write english or had to learn quick, maybe he had to relearn it? Theo isn't sure exactly what's going on there but he wants to know, he wants to know so bad it leaves him raw and restless. 

But as much as he learned from the writing, it’d be great to hear that voice, hear it hitching up in a moan or down in groan. Theo smirks as he thinks about it, shifts a little under the covers and presses a lazy hand against his dick. He wants to hear that voice saying his name, growling it in his ear because new kid looks like he can get nasty when he wants and Theo _likes_ nasty.

New kid’s got a _nasty_ past, thinks he hides it with those ratty gloves and not speaking and it works okay, on humans it works okay. Not on Theo though, not on someone who can smell the lingering scraps of Pride wrapped around those hidden fingers, not on someone who can smell the self-loathing hanging around the kid like a death. There’s a story there, a story to go with the voice he’s never heard and the hands he wants to see and the name he wants to get.

He rolls his hips, drags his palm down the length of his dick and sighs. He could jack off thinking about Kenneth’s lips wrapped around his cock, cool brown eyes never breaking eye contact. Pretend he hears the stutter in the kid’s heart when he bucks his hips, hitting the back of his throat instead of just fucking into his own hand. He could get off to a nice little fantasy, make up something nice and hot for himself to fall asleep to.

If he really tries, really wants to, he could even make his dream continue the fantasy. He’s a thing of Pride, he’s got a visceral existence with blood and sweat and shit and dreams were never this thing but. But he can use them, he knows how and it might take some effort but he can make them good dreams. He can dream up Kenneth standing over him, kneeling in front of him, pinning his wrists against a rough wall, slapping him hard across the face.

He can have Kenneth fuck him raw, until he’s drooling and delirious and gone. He can have Kenneth bounce on his cock, squeezing his balls hard so Theo can’t cum, not until Kenneth’s ready to give him whatever he decides Theo deserves. He can sit his ass down on a bed while Kenneth fingers himself just out of reach, whine in his throat every time Kenneth meets his eyes and smirks, three fingers deep in his own ass while his cock leaks onto his stomach.

Theo rolls his hips again, biting his lip as he thinks about it. He breathes slow but it’s shallow, he can feel his pulse jumping in his throat and the only sound in the room is the quiet hum of the ac. He doesn’t deny himself things, if he wants it then he’ll take it any way and any how he can but he doesn’t this time. There’s something different about wanting Kenneth because he doesn't just _want_ Kenneth. He doesn’t want to fuck him out right, fucking him would be nice, more than nice, it would be _divine_ but he doesn’t just want a quick fuck.

Theodore wants…to know. He wants to know who Kenneth is, what his Pride is or maybe it's was? He wants to know the person Kenneth goes home to, whoever he smells like but doesn’t fuck because Theo would know. He wants to know where Kenneth came from, he wants to hear that voice, he wants to hear his name rolling off that tongue.

He wants more than a face and a few looks at a nice ass. He wants to stop thinking in circles about this new kid but he can’t. He’s a dog with a new bone to worry only this bone isn’t his yet. He’s hounding after this new fucker like he’s hounding after a Master. Fuck, it’s been too long since he’s had a proper Master if he’s going after any random trash he finds on the street.

“Not my fucking Master,” he growls under his breath, gnawing away at his lip. He wants a Master, he needs one, he’s a fucking hell hound who ran away from his post. He needs a Master to help him stay here and stay sane and he doesn’t have one because of the fucking war. Making deals helps, killing helps, being killed is best but he needs a new name etched into his collar and carved onto his soul to bind him. 

He needs a fucking Master to calm the itch under his skin, spiritual fleas or whatever. He needs something burning hot to sear and melt his skin because this realm is cold and he’s always too cold. He’s used to slowly roasting away, swallowing embers to keep him warm through the cool nights and now he doesn’t have that. He fucks to keep his body warm but it always fades away right after he cums, he kills to get his blood racing but it always calms back down too fast. He starts fights to get the shit kicked out of him but they never last long enough, he's always left spitting blood and bone on the freezing ground and growling under his breath. 

“Still not my fucking Master,” he hisses, rolling over and dragging a blanket over his head. He doesn’t dream that night and avoids Kenneth’s routes for the rest of the month. The rest of the week is as long as he can help himself though because he's a dog with a new bone to worry and he wants to know, he wants to know it all. 


End file.
